


Chain of Command

by epithalamium



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Felching, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Mild D/s, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-08-05
Packaged: 2017-12-22 12:39:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/913326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epithalamium/pseuds/epithalamium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dedication, competence, and a mind as sharp as his habitual expression: Erwin admired all those things in Rivaille.</p><p>His nearly obsessive-compulsive behaviour, on the other hand...</p><p>(Mild D/s; spanking; I'm so very ashamed guys you have no idea.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chain of Command

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Chain of Command  
> Characters/Pairings: Erwin Smith/Rivaille  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Disclaimer: Shingeki no Kyojin and all related characters is to Isayama Hajime and associates.  
> Summary: Dedication, competence, and a mind as sharp as his habitual expression: Erwin admired all those things in Rivaille. His nearly obsessive-compulsive behaviour, on the other hand...  
> Word count: 1,900~  
> Notes/Warnings: ~~I haven't read the manga yet, so I have no idea.~~ Caught up with the manga and regret nothing. Choices had been made to spell Levi as 'Rivaille' and use 'Corporal' instead of the full 'Lance Corporal' or 'Captain' (which might be the more accurate rank) because they sound better to my ears.

Everything had its place, in the world of Rivaille; ordered and clean, the way he wanted it to be. He was the sort of person who never lets different types of food on his plate touch--not that there was much variety, considering the times--even if he had to commandeer another plate for the trickier things like mashed potatoes and the thin gravy that came along with it. No one complained. The Corporal didn’t stand for dirty dishes. Even if he had to take care of them himself.

Sometimes Erwin thought that was the reason why Rivaille was so set on killing off the Titans: those big messy creatures that wreaked so much havoc in his world, ruining structures and killing off their comrades. Messy deaths, no matter how heroic. And they respected and mourned each as worth their due, despite the fear and the doubt, wondering if the loss of life had been worth it. Their world slowly falling apart. 

The Titans had no place in the world of Rivaille, and he goes off on his missions, killing them one by one--their number as yet inconceivable for Erwin; no one really knew for sure how many there were, how they multiplied, and if the Corps had been making any progress at all. That didn’t daunt Rivaille in the least, not that he’d let show, anyway.

The Corporal hated getting blood on his gear, on his clothes, unless it was the blood of his men. And then he would stint at nothing: dressing wounds when he could, grasping the hands of the dying when he couldn’t. He kept each death fresh in his mind, filing it away with all the other reasons for the Titans’ deaths. If anything so impossible, so incomprehensible, so unknown, can even be said to die. Erwin had listened to Hanji’s lecture once--he would not be so quick to wish for a repetition of that experience--and what she’d told him made Erwin wonder if Titans were even _real_ in a way that humans were real. They certainly felt corporeal enough, but one had to wonder.

Rivaille had listened to the lecture himself, not for any sort of scientific interest, but because it was only logical to want to know everything about the enemy. If only to use any possible sort of weakness against them. Dedication, competence, and a mind as sharp as his habitual expression: Erwin admired all those things in Rivaille.

His nearly obsessive-compulsive behaviour, on the other hand...

‘Remember what I said about your presence in my office?’ said Erwin, pushing his chair back from the desk and resting his hands on his knees. Rivaille’s narrow eyes narrowed further at Erwin, but he didn’t move otherwise, keeping his arms crossed over his narrow chest. ‘We are alone, Corporal. No need to stand on formality.’ The mention of rank belied Erwin’s words, but then again, it wasn’t as if either of them would ever forget where they stood with each other.

Rivaille shrugged, letting his arms fall back and crossing the room to turn the key on the door of Erwin’s office. He turned back to Erwin then, opening his mouth as if to say something, but thinking the better of it. 

‘And the rest,’ said Erwin, patiently.

Rivaille walked back towards the desk, towards Erwin, shrugging his jacket off and folding it neatly, placing it on the chair in front of the desk. His boots followed, and Erwin almost regretted the fact that he couldn’t see Rivaille’s feet because of the damned desk. The Corporal had beautiful feet, long and narrow, the graceful arc almost feminine except there really was nothing feminine about Rivaille at all. Unless one was going to make a height joke. No matter. It wouldn’t really matter later on. 

Soft metallic sound of Rivaille unbuckling his belts, and Erwin shook his head. ‘Keep the belts on.’

‘How the fuck am I supposed to do that?’ Rivaille said, irritated beyond his apparent decision to keep silent.

‘Be creative,’ Erwin suggested. Rivaille swore at Erwin under his breath, which only made Erwin smile.

It took some acrobatic skill, and Erwin didn’t even try to mask the appreciative look on his face as Rivaille contrived to get out of his uniform without taking the belts off, the movement of his body spare and calculated, graceful even as Rivaille’s frustration increased. He’d had to unbuckle some of the belts and put them back on, but no more than ten minutes had passed and now he was standing naked--almost naked, aside from his belts--in front of Erwin’s desk, looking more murderous than usual.

Erwin looked at the Corporal as one would go over the usual military inspection. Rivaille was blushing, the tips of his ears a faint pink, but he stood to attention as if they were in the field. The belts were dark against the paleness of his skin, leather flush against the hard lines of Rivaille’s body. Because he was smaller than most people in the Corps, people tended to think of Rivaille as delicate, not expecting pure muscle under the uniform. 

Rivaille had been half-hard when he’d started stripping, but his cock was fully erect now, the tip leaking even as Erwin finished with his inspection.

‘Hands on the desk, Rivaille,’ said Erwin, noting how Rivaille shivered when Erwin said his name. Erwin stood up as Rivaille obeyed, moving behind Rivaille as he bent down to lay his palms flat on the surface of Erwin’s desk. ‘Don’t turn around. Eyes straight ahead.’

Erwin bent down himself, letting his own body brush against Rivaille’s as he placed Rivaille’s hands farther, towards the middle of the desk. Rivaille adjusted the placement of his feet, moving his weight so that there was less tension on his shoulders. Erwin gave him a slap on the arse for that, hand leaving a sizeable mark on Rivaille’s skin. 

‘Did I give you leave to move?’

‘Do you want me to be fucking able to pick my blades up tomorrow?’ Rivaille spat back. 

It’s never stopped you before, Erwin thought, but didn’t say out loud because one had to choose one’s battles with Rivaille. ‘I told you earlier to leave the belts on, Corporal. And yet I remember seeing you undoing quite a number of them.’

‘Put them back on, didn’t I?’ Rivaille said. 

Erwin let one hand travel down Rivaille’s body, fingertips tracing the indents of Rivaille’s spine, smiling as he felt Rivaille tremble. His skin was almost feverish to the touch. He was, as Rivaille himself would have said, fucking gagging for it. ‘Still disobeyed orders, didn’t you?’

‘Could be because what you asked was fucking impossible.’

‘Hmm,’ said Erwin. ‘Humanity’s Strongest. One would think nothing is impossible for Corporal Rivaille.’ He paused, giving Rivaille time to curse the air blue, before asking, ‘How many, Corporal?’

Rivaille swallowed. ‘Fucking five, Erwin.’

Erwin nodded. ‘And three more, for that language.’ He gave Rivaille’s arse another hard slap, the sound sharp against the natural sounds of the night, Rivaille growling at him more in anger than pain. ‘Keep count, Rivaille.’

Erwin made sure his hand wouldn’t hit the same place more than twice, spreading out the pain so that Rivaille could still sit on a saddle if needed the next day. Too bad, actually, that his hands were large enough that when Rivaille had called out eight--his voice breaking, breath coming in sharp little gasps--Rivaille's arse and the top of his thighs were quite a fetching shade of red. 

‘How many now?’

‘Eight, sir.’ And that was when Erwin knew that Rivaille was almost there, Rivaille never calling him sir unless he was desperate, ready to do anything just so Erwin would give him what he wanted. Erwin leaned down, pushing Rivaille’s legs further apart with his knees, one hand snaking around Rivaille’s waist, fingers closing around his cock. ‘Fuck, Erwin!’

Rivaille collapsed on the desk, pushing his punished arse against Erwin, rubbing greedily at the hard tented crotch of Erwin’s trousers. Erwin’s hand started moving, sliding over Rivaille’s cock, a finger ghosting against the very tip, making Rivaille jump. 

Rivaille’s hands left the desk, reaching back to spread his arse cheeks, shamelessly flaunting himself at Erwin. ‘Please, sir, fucking _please_.’

Erwin nodded again, although Rivaille was too far gone to notice anything at that point. He made a keening sound when Erwin stepped away, reaching out for the little bottle of oil hidden away in the back of the top drawer of his desk. Erwin’s fingers shook as he unbuttoned the fly of his trousers, noting the darkened wet patch where pre-come had stained the cloth. He applied a liberal amount of oil on his cock, spreading it quickly, even as Rivaille started shouting, ‘Do you need a fucking written invitation, Erwin?’ which some of their men might have heard, if they’d been loitering about in places they had no business being.

And then Erwin was pressing his cock inside Rivaille, the rough entrance of his arsehole almost too tight and Rivaille was making that keening sound again, hands back on the desk now, scrabbling for purchase. Erwin took hold of the belts that looped around Rivaille’s chest, pulling at them to move Rivaille closer, his tight little hole closing around Erwin’s cock greedily. ‘Harder, you fucking bastard. Fucking _move_.’

And in the heat of the moment Erwin was as much of Rivaille’s subordinate as the other way around, with his cock pounding in and out of Rivaille, pushing him against the desk with every thrust, and Erwin thought despite all that oil and pre-come it probably still hurt--Erwin was not a small man, after all--but Rivaille didn’t seem to mind. Kept ordering him to go faster and harder, in fact, and Erwin was quite happy to oblige. 

Erwin fucked Rivaille until Rivaille lost control, fucked him hard until he was all hot and sweaty and dirty, which Rivaille hated and loved in equal measure. 

He felt Rivaille shuddering under him, Rivaille shouting insults and his name in one breath as he came all over the desk, felt Rivaille tightening around him so that he didn’t even need to hear that hoarse voice saying, ‘Come, you little shit.’ And Erwin did as he was told, moving as if to pull out except Rivaille was cursing again, ‘ _Inside_ ; I’ve just cleaned the floors, godfuckingdammit.’

They both collapsed on top of the desk after; Erwin moving so that his weight didn’t rest on Rivaille, his cock throbbing still and making Rivaille squirm. He pulled out, after a while, after they’d caught their breaths, kneeling down the floors where drops of come had landed, despite Rivaille’s best efforts. Erwin turned Rivaille around, nudging gently at his knees until Rivaille lay down with his back on the desk with an irritated little huff of breath.

Erwin started licking off the come that had trailed down Rivaille’s stomach; Rivaille’s come, mingled with Erwin’s own as his tongue reached lower down Rivaille’s body. And when Rivaille was clean, Erwin sat back on his heels and looked up at Rivaille with a smile, surprised to see that the edges of the Corporal’s lips had quirked upwards in an answering smile. Rivaille got off the desk, bending forward and pulling Erwin close.

‘You fucking filthy bastard,’ said Rivaille, before kissing him.

*


End file.
